Devil's Night
by gohkm
Summary: A stranger stumbles into a sleepy village on a cold night. Unfortunately, the locals have prepared a less-than-warm welcome for him ...


The door banged open to admit a tall figure, cloaked and hooded against the lashing rain outside. The noise in the tavern subsided for a moment, but quickly resumed; strangers were hardly a rare occurrence here.

Removing the sodden cloak, the stranger made his way to the bar. He was a tall man, past six foot, with strong, handsome features. But his eyes were haunted, like some of the veterans Kurt had seen, those men who had seen and done things that no living, sane man ever should.

"Evening, good sir," Kurt greeted the man. "Welcome to the Warm Hearth."

He dipped his chin at the stranger's sheathed sword. "Please peace-knot your sword, though, sir."

The man glanced down at his weapon. "My apologies, I must have forgotten."

A moment's work, and the hilt of the sword was bound in the elaborate peace-knot, designed to prevent, or at least slow down, hot-heads from answering with violence too quickly.

"Good thing you came in, sir," Kurt said as he poured the man a drink.

"Why is that so?"

"Why, it is Devils' Night tonight!" Kurt exclaimed. "All manner of foul creatures are outside this night, to work their evil magicks and carry away fair maidens!"

At that point, somebody called for the innkeeper's attention, and Kurt hurried away.

"Is that so?" The man murmured softly to himself as Kurt departed. He sipped the beer, savouring the rich draught …

Too late, he detected the bitter aftertaste.

Cursing at his carelessness, the last thing he remembered before unconsciousness took him was the abrupt silence in the tavern.

* * *

"Is he out cold?"

"Of course," Kurt grunted as he relieved the unconscious man of his weapon. "I gave him enough dreamwort for a horse! Quit yakking and come give me a hand!"

Between the four of them, they man-handled the stranger to a cart and unceremoniously pitched him in. Kurt threw his sword in after him.

"Gods above, he's heavy," Suther groaned.

"No, he's not, you're just running to fat," Kurt snapped.

"Do you think he's the one?" Wondered Malic.

"We'll soon find out. Sakra's instructions were to bring him to the sacrificial pit."

* * *

It was a grueling two hours in the rain, even in a cart pulled by four strong horses. The four conspirators were drenched by the time they got to their destination, and sweat further dampened their already wet clothes as they struggled with the stranger.

After plenty of huffing and puffing, they dropped him on to the cold stone floor, next to his sword.

"Sakra!" Kurt called into the semi-darkness of the cave.

Witchlight flared into existence around them, casting a pale azure radiance. The sacrificial pit was a shallow, natural depression in the ground. There was nothing special about this, save for the altar of dark, light-absorbing stone in the middle of the circular chamber. The bones of previous sacrifices had been carelessly piled around the circumference of the chamber, forming a disturbing wall of leering skulls and empty eye sockets.

As the darkness receded under the assault of the witchlight, so, too, did Sakra make his appearance. He was a stocky, muscular individual, having served as a smith before finding his true calling. Dressed in ceremonial robes embroidered with un-natural symbols that writhed as he moved, Sakra held a huge staff-hammer in one hand.

"It went well?" His voice was deep and resonant.

"Aye, master," Kurt offered. "We kept him away from his sword, like you said."

"Perfect." Sakra rumbled. "I assumed Malic saw him coming up and road and warned the rest of you?"

"Aye."

"Then let us prepare Alaric the Darksword for his death."

* * *

They put Alaric on the stone altar.

Fashioned from a single, massive Gem of Darkness stolen from the Plane of Shadow by some long-forgotten necromancer, Sakra had found it many long years ago. He had learnt how to tap into its power, and use that power to channel his dark magic.

"Alas, Alaric," Sakra bent low and whispered into the unconsciousness man's ear. "I have enjoyed our long association, but now I fear it must come to an end."

"I, too, have enjoyed knowing you, Sakra," Alaric replied as he cracked open one eyelid and winked at the astonished necromancer. "It seems that you have forgotten just exactly what you made me."

With that, he swung a fist that caught Sakra on the side of his head and knocked him over. Alaric pushed himself upright and stood on the altar of darkness. Power began crackling around him as Sakra recovered from the blow, and his four associates began scrambling for weapons.

"I am Alaric the Darksword," Alaric proclaimed. "Born two hundred and thirty-two years ago, died by my own hand and was brought back against my will by you, necromancer.

"You made me into one of your corrupted brethren, but my will is still my own, and now, your time is nigh!"

Magic coalesced in a blinding flash, and Alaric screamed as his body _warped_.

Horns tore out of his skull, and bony armour protruded from his chest and loins. Alaric's legs melded and dissolved into a steaming column of putrid green fire, and terrible, skull-laden, leathery wings unfurled from his waist and the sides of his head. His eyes shone with centuries of hatred, blazing with emerald light.

"I am Calibraxis, Immortal of Darkness, and I will devour your soul tonight!"

Talons extended, the horrific entity swooped down towards the necromancer.

Only to meet Kurt's sword.

"Master!" Kurt screamed. "Save yourself!"

Growling, Calibraxis grabbed Kurt's sword in one hand. He ripped the blade from the doomed man's hands, and raked the talons of his other hand through Kurt's face. Kurt only had time to scream once before Calibraxis distended his jaw un-naturally wide and extruded fangs. He buried those fangs deep in Kurt's throat.

The skulls on the Darksword's wings came alive, shrieking in unholy ecstasy, their empty eye-sockets blazing with stolen life energies as the Immortal of Darkness fed.

Malic lost his nerve at the sight, dropped his axe, and ran for dear life.

The other two hesitated, stunned at the sudden appearance of the Immortal of Darkness. That hesitation cost them their lives.

Hardly sated, Calibraxis dropped Kurt's husk of a corpse and barreled into Suther. Wails fading rapidly as his soul was sucked dry, Suther twitched once and then was still. Krieg took the opportunity and buried his sword up to the hilt in Calibraxis's back.

All he got for his trouble was a dry chuckle.

"You need a blessed weapon," Calibraxis informed Krieg, then languidly shredded his throat with a single swipe of his talons. Krieg's soul yielded another morsel for the Immortal of Darkness, then Calibraxis calmly recovered his sheathed sword.

A flick of his talons removed the encumbering peace-knot, and Calibraxis grasped and drew his sword.

The chamber resounded with a soundless scream as the blade was bared. Something, somewhere, gave voice as it was released from its prison.

"The daemonsword, Thanatos," Sakra breathed, now back on his feet.

"Once the holy blade, Dragonsoul," Calibraxis nodded. "You corrupted her just as you corrupted me."

"Aye," the necromancer gestured. "Just as I will now destroy you, I will destroy her!"

The distraction provided by the recently deceased Kurt and company had given Sakra enough time to cast his own summoning, and the veils between this world and the next collapsed with a roar.

Three figures, identical to Calibraxis, thundered into reality.

"Brother!" one hissed.

"Betrayer!" the second one spat.

"Traitor!" the third shrieked.

"Destroy him!" Sakra screamed.

Three blazing swords came unsheathed as the unholy trinity came at Calibraxis.

He knew them all, of course. The fraternity was a small one, and everyone knew everyone else. That was partly why they all hated him – they all knew what he had done.

Farsciel, the Corruptor.

Somelion, the Herald.

Araixis, the Reaper.

They were master swordsmen each, used to working with each other; they had had centuries to perfect the nuances of the triangle formation Immortals of Darkness favoured.

But he had Thanatos.

And Thanatos was nothing like these Immortals of Darkness had ever faced.

Calibraxis dodged a wicked cut from Farsciel, fully expecting to run into Somelion and Araixis. He could only block one sword at a time, so he deflected Somelion's strike and took a stinging hit to the shoulder from Araixis.

He whispered arcane entreaties to Thanatos to lend its strength to the riposte, and swung the daemonsword in a mighty double arc. The first blow smashed Araixis's sword into tiny little pieces, and the second removed his head. Araixis's corpse tumbled to the ground, flaming and disintegrating into ash as it did so.

Screaming bloody vengeance, Somelion and Farsciel re-doubled their efforts to get at Calibraxis. Spinning Thanatos into an impenetrable wall of magical steel, Calibraxis laughed at their futile endeavours.

Finally tiring of the game, Calibraxis took Farsciel in a low thrust that the other never saw coming. Farsciel continued to fight on for another twenty seconds, wondering why each of his strikes was coming slower and slower. Finally, he noticed the gaping wound in his stomach, venting green fire. Realization that he was dead dawned quickly after that, and Farsciel exploded in a cloud of flaming ash with a screech of anger and defeat.

As his minions were rapidly being destroyed, Sakra tried tapping into the power of his altar. His mystical, questing tendrils grasped at nothingness, and with a gasp of despair, Sakra realized what had happened.

Being an Immortal of Darkness, Calibraxis was also able to use the power of the dark altar! Merely touching it had drawn him back to consciousness from his drugged sleep, and he must have actively drained the dark altar to treble his strength and power.

Desperate now, Sakra cast his most powerful spell. The air crackled and filled with the putrid stench of death as the necromancer ripped open the veil to the netherworld once again, and allowed the evil energies there to flood into our reality. Thunder exploded in a shattering boom as black lightning blazed.

For a moment, all was the pitch black of non-existence.

As his vision and hearing slowly returned, Sakra heard Alaric laughing. The Immortal of Darkness had pinned Somelion against the cave wall with Thanatos, where writhed like a stuck butterfly.

"A dark bolt?" Calibraxis guffawed incredulously. "Against an Immortal of Darkness?"

Sakra could have screamed at himself for his sheer stupidity.

"It has been a while since I last fed on a brother," Calibraxis told the squirming Somelion. "I am going to enjoy this."

Calibraxis took his time with Somelion, giving Sakra enough time to summon the dregs of his magic. He re-animated the bones in the chamber, binding them into shambling skeletons – Morbid Puppets – under his control. These he sent at Calibraxis as he attempted to flee.

Sakra got as far as the cave entrance before Calibraxis finished smashing aside his Morbid Puppets.

That night, Sakra learnt that dying could take a very long time, and be very, very painful, indeed.

* * *

When Calibraxis was done, he used the tremendous power of the dark altar absorbed by Thanatos to collapse the cave. No other being of darkness would find, or use the dark altar ever again.

He had found the taint of Acheron here, in this sleepy village.

A taint of Darkness, which could only be fought by the Light.

* * *

The screams would always haunt him, the screams of the dying men, women and children. He would always remember them, always hear them in his sleep.

He accepted them, of course. It was his penance. Darkness must be fought where it was found, and all traces of it eradicated lest it find root once again.

Alaric the Darksword strode away into the rising dawn, leaving the ashes and corpses of the once-sleepy village behind him. Inside him, the daemon Calibraxis laughed delightedly at the carnage, and likewise, Thanatos trembled in rapture, sated from the bloodletting.

But he refused to give in.

How could he?

"Someday, some way," Alaric whispered to himself yet another time. "I will find a way to destroy you. Until then, I will settle for destroying all of your brothers."

With Calibraxis's laughter resonating through his soul, Alaric shouldered Thanatos and strode off into the sunrise.


End file.
